You ever find yourself with your hand on your chest above your heart, trying to metaphorically bring it back to heart?
I feel like i learnt it somewhere.
Or somehow I came to believe that if I put my hand on my heart and imagined a fire radiating from my hand, it would create a spark and jump-start my heart.
It’s never worked.
Everything slows when you reach the bottom. Your heart, your breath… Your limbs hand heavily,barely moving.
Numb. Aching for feeling.
I’ve described it before.
Somehow as I cry, I feel 9 years old. Not 30. I feel like somehow I didn’t develop. I didn’t grow. I’m stuck, praying that my life would be different.
I remember some of them.
I remember praying that when I’m 21 I’ll be beautiful. That when I’m 28 I’d have done something successful. When I’m 16 I’ll be thin. When I’m 18 I’ll be independent. Worthy. I was praying that some day I’ll feel worthy.
Worthiness is a big thing. It determines every decision you make
I remember my friend asking me where my self worth was, after I’d tried explaining an argument I’d had with my bf the day before
Its non existent.
I’ve read a million articles on rebuilding self esteem and loving yourself and finding your worth.
But I still struggle with it. On every level. Because of my weight gain I’ve started being a recluse again. I turn down invites at the last minute because I don’t know what to wear. I cancel meet ups because I feel uncomfortable in my skin. I’ve been doing it for months while telling myself that I was busy or tired or stressed or not in the mood. But I’ve been hiding.
I wear big clothes and a hoodie every day. Even when it’s 31 degrees outside.
Every day I think about giving up. Giving up on everything. I’ve already given up on so much.
I’ve given up on work. On my dreams. On ambition. On my career. On making friends. On feeling heard. On being loved in a way that makes me feel special.